


Stockholm 1AM

by orphan_account



Category: Counterpart - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 18:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Set roughly two years after the final episode.  Harold conducts an interrogation in the wake of a terrorist bombing.





	Stockholm 1AM

Harold adjusted the lamp so that it pointed directly in his prisoner's eyes before removing the blindfold. The man reacted as expected, gasping and trying to raise his bound hands to shield his face. He was stopped short by the handcuffs, and the length of chain anchoring them to the metal table in front of them.

"What the hell?" The man blinked several times, trying to orient himself. He still looked the same as when Harold last had last seen him, with the executive haircut and the boyish features that made him seem younger than he actually was. Instead of a tailored suit, however, he was dressed in a black turtleneck, gray overcoat, and dark jeans, meant to make him look inconspicuous. Unfortunately, he hadn't been inconspicuous enough. 

"Hello, Mr. Quayle," Harold greeted him cheerily. "You've certainly gotten yourself into deep shit."

"Har - Harold Silk?!" Peter squinted, frowning. "What are you doing here? Where are we?" The interior of the abandoned warehouse was pitch black aside from the lamp on the table. Peter tried to get up, but Harold shoved him firmly back down in his chair. He stayed put.

"You're not in a position to be asking questions." Harold took his own seat opposite Peter. "But I suggest you answer mine if you want to keep breathing for much longer."

Peter's eyes widened. "Good God." He scanned Harold's face, taking in the steely gaze and disapproving expression, then the black leather gloves and the expensive coat. "You're his Other. You're from Prime. How did you - "

"Where's Clare?" Howard cut him off. "It'll be better for you both if you cooperate."

Peter's face darkened. "Like hell it will."

Harold shrugged, appearing indifferent. "We'll find her eventually, along with the rest of Indigo's agents. And when we do, you lose any chance to make a deal."

"We were framed and you know it," Peter countered tersely. "We didn't kill anyone."

Harold was pretty sure that he was telling the truth. However, Peter Quayle had also proven himself to be painfully naive and easy to manipulate on multiple occasions. And he was still undeniably guilty of a long list of transgressions that Harold had plenty of evidence for. "You broke into ECDC headquarters. You destroyed property and equipment. You stole research data, assaulted and injured personnel, and then you kidnapped - "

"It's not kidnapping when it's your own child!" Peter interjected, furiously. The chain snapped taut again, and the table lurched several inches forward. 

Howard had him by the collar immediately, and put him back in his seat, more roughly this time. He locked eyes with Peter, unblinking. "Don't think I'm not sympathetic. I don't agree with how you've been treated. But people are dead." His voice was calm, almost gentle. "Agent Temple is dead, and her blood is on your hands."

"Agent Temple?" Peter was wearing an expression of unpleasant shock. Suddenly the angry tension left him, and the line of his shoulders slumped. Finally, he seemed to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

Harold continued. "Where's Clare? We know she was with you when you entered the building. We know she left first with your daughter. Where are they headed?" 

Peter should have been with them, but he'd been waylaid by a security guard who wasn't where he was supposed to be. Harold had seized the opportunity to bag his rabbit. Peter, to his credit, had managed to subdue the guard himself, but Harold was better trained and better armed. It hadn't taken much effort at all. 

It was several seconds of silence before Peter answered. "How can you be so blind?" His voice was weaker now, and the feigned indignation wasn't hiding how desperate he was. "Since Parsons took control of the OI, they're only concerned with amassing power and pushing their insane agenda. They set us up to cover their tracks, to hide the fact that they've had a cure for the München virus for months."

"Sure, Peter. The OI is letting the death toll climb so they make a few bucks and seize political control." Harold didn't hide his contempt. "Do you realize how insane you sound? Your own father-in-law- "

"Come on," Peter urged. "Isn't this how you'd do it, if it were you?"

Harold paused. "If it were me?"

"The plague is killing hundreds every day. You commandeer funding, resources, talent, information. Anything you want in the name of saving lives. Anything can be justified. You make all the rules and regulations go away. You operate carte blanche - no oversight, no limits. Everyone wants to help. Everyone's desperate." He laughed nervously. "It's such a fucking fantastic opportunity." 

Harold refused to be distracted. "So, your solution is to blow up the ECDC and make sure all those efforts go to waste? Who's the villain here?"

"Look, someone else planted that bomb. You really think I would have put Maddie and Clare in that kind of danger? Me?" Peter was pulling at his bonds again in agitation. "You think I would harm Naya Temple? She's the one who told us - "

"No, I don't think you killed Temple," Harold interrupted. "I think you're the same screw-up weakling you always were. I think Clare killed Temple, and manipulated you to help her. That's how your relationship works, doesn't it?"

Peter didn't answer, didn't defend himself. He just stared at Harold, lips pressed together in a firm, stubborn line. But he wasn't fooling anyone. 

"Make a deal, Peter, and you'll still be able to have some semblance of a normal life." Harold did his best to sound magnanimous. "You'll get to go home, Watch Maddie grow up."

Peter averted his eyes. "You can't guarantee that."

"Sure, I can."

"You're lying," Peter paused. "Or being lied to. You can't guarantee Maddie doesn't end up in a cage in a laboratory, or that Clare doesn't catch a bullet."

"Don't be dramatic, Peter," Harold chided him.

"Dramatic?" Peter looked up at him sharply. "Have you ever seen a three year-old get a lumbar puncture? Or a neural block? Not be able to walk for a week?" His voice broke, his brave front crumbling. "They're never going to let her go. They terminated our parental rights two days ago. Did you know that? 'Temporarily,' they said, but it's not going to be temporarily. Don't tell me you wouldn't take matters into your own hands if it were your daughter."

Harold had a sudden memory of Peter Quayle's Other, of the heavily redacted medical records and grainy photographs of a young man who'd spent years trapped in Echo Prison as one of Yanek's lab rats. A pale, anxious creature, forgotten and neglected. A pitiful waste of a human being. 

If anyone ever breathed the slightest suggestion of subjecting Anna to that nightmare, he'd - 

"But it's not my daughter." Howard rose from his seat, looming over Peter and throwing black shadows over his face. "And right now, you and Clare and your little terrorist friends are more of a threat to Maddie's well-being than anyone, not to mention half of Europe."

"If it were your Other standing there, he'd listen to reason. The Harold Silk who belongs in this world would display some integrity. He wouldn't be taking orders from Parsons." Peter's words were meant to be goading, but they sounded more like a plea for help.

Harold's hands clenched at his sides, and there was an unsettled feeling his stomach. "You never know when to shut up, do you Peter?" He lashed out without warning, backhanding Peter Quayle as hard as he could. The sound of the impact echoed in the dark, followed by a pained yelp from Peter. Harold pulled him up and halfway across the table by the front of his shirt, the threat of further violence clear. "If you don't give me Clare, I'll hand you over to the authorities," he growled. "And I will make damn sure that you go to the electric chair for murder and treason."

"And what happens to you, Harold?" Peter gasped. He was bracing against the edge of the table with his cuffed hands, anticipating the next blow.

Harold let go of him, incredulous. "Me?"

Peter sank back into his chair. He took several shaky breaths before continuing. "You're from Prime. You know too much. Someone will have noticed by now." He looked up at Harold. "It'll catch up to you sooner or later. You're never going to be safe in this world."

And suddenly, Howard understood. He knew exactly what the Quayles were planning.

And that's when he heard the gun cock next to his ear. 

"Sit down," said Clare.

"I'm disappointed in you," Harold didn't turn his head. "Why would you come back for him? He's useless dead weight. He's probably going to get you and your girl killed."

"You wouldn't understand," Clare was very calm. "Hands behind you."

Harold looked at her then. Thinner than he remembered, even in her stealth gear, but still beautiful. Harder eyes. She emptied his pockets, and had him tied up in no time.

"And you're leaving me alive? Good god, you're getting soft," he taunted her.

"Fuck you," Peter snapped. 

Clare freed Peter from the handcuffs. The second he was loose, his arms went around her, his face buried against her shoulder. 

"Darling, we don't have time." Her voice was soft. "Maddie's waiting for us."

And they were gone. And Howard found that Clare didn't bother securing him particularly well. He was out of the ropes in a few minutes, and that was likely on purpose. They didn't consider him the enemy. Professionally, Howard felt vaguely insulted.

He could have given chase if wanted, but he knew where they were going. He could have half of the OI's forces surrounding them by morning.

If he wanted.

Peter, utterly transparent idiot that he is, still couldn't lie for anything. Tonight, he was hardly even trying. Harold's next stop would be Agent Temple's office at the OI, to confirm a few pieces of information before he made his next move. If Howard was lucky, the police wouldn't have gotten clearance to search it yet. 

He didn't bother straightening up after himself in the warehouse, aside from collecting his hardware. The clock was ticking.

Howard, despite his outward hostility, did understand the Quayles' reasons. They were the same reasons why he was still here in Alpha, and his Other was cooling his heels in Prime, with the family Howard had abandoned. They were the same reasons why he'd taken this job with the OI, and then taken steps to ensure he kept it, even after they started killing off the remaining defectors from Prime.

The stakes were too high to simply sit around and do nothing. Harold sure as hell didn't trust anyone else to get things done. The current OI regime had to be put down. The damage that they'd already wrought was incalculable.

And if that meant manipulating Clare and Peter to get him what he needed, so be it. Peter was right. Harold's Other probably would have helped them, probably would have carried their little girl all the way through the Exchange to sanctuary in Prime on his own shoulders.

Harold, however, had the bigger picture in mind. He might be willing to help the Quayles, but only for a price. He'd just had a lovely demonstration of exactly where Clare's loyalties lay, and Peter's willingness to throw himself to the wolves. Harold could work with that. 

He picked up the pace, heading back toward the center of the city. He could hear the sirens from the emergency vehicles at the ECDC in the distance, and smell the acrid smoke tainting the night air. He would go to Temple's office first. Then his safe house.

Then Harold needed to catch a train to Berlin.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.


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